Third Times A Charm, A Heather Wells Mystery
by Charmanderx33
Summary: Heather and Cooper are in LA where a mysterious case of female disappearances are occurring.. What kind of trouble will she get into this time?
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N: Hey guys, I haven't read any Meg Cabot books lately, so I apologise if I don't get her style right, or if some of the events don't exactly fit, I just wanted to give this a go, because I -love-love-love- Cooper/Heather! Hope you enjoy... please review and let me know how I can improve… Also, this might get M rated later on, so be careful LOL… Thanks, Charlotte xo)**

As Cooper and I arrive at The Beverly Hilton, the sun gets completely covered by rain clouds that had begun to form about an hour ago. They now began coating us in fresh smelling rain water, not unusual for a nearing-winter, autumn evening in New York City, however in Los Angeles, where Cooper is currently working on a case—he _still_ won't tell me what is going on, but at least he didn't drag my dad along too, that'll give us chance to at least, uh, christen the bed—it's rather strange weather.

Apparently there's this big storm on its way… I was totally hyper-ventilating on the like, three-thousand hour plane ride over. It took so long, I was so tempted to drag Cooper into the bathroom and join the Mile High Club as platinum members. However, when I mentioned this in a hushed tone, he told me that he'd love to, but we were minutes away from landing and that I should buckle my seatbelt. How unromantic is that? I offer him carnal knowledge—for about the thousandth time that week, admittedly—of my body, and he tells me to 'buckle my seatbelt'? It's sweet that he worries about my safety and everything, but _come on_. He knows that I can take care of myself… although he has saved me from crazy bosses, crazy frat boys, and well... just about crazy everything… myself included.

On the way to the hotel, the taxi we had taken from the airport decided to break down. It's so my luck really. You know, that a taxi I get into has to break down. When this happened, I warned Cooper to not separate from me, because I've seen too many 'The Hills have Eyes' movies to know better. There could be nuclear bombing victims that want to hack us to death and eat our bloody remains… They ate them, right? Maybe that was 'Wrong Turn'. Maybe I've been watching too many horror movies with the dorm's—sorry, residence hall's—students on my lunch breaks. Maybe I've just got too much spare time.

Cooper just smirked and told me I was being really paranoid and unrealistic, because we were in a very populated street and he highly doubted that any one other than the mountain lions wanted to hack me to death and eat my bloody remains. I didn't say anything, but with my past, and the likelihood of any one getting into those types of situations, it was definitely me that would come face-to-face with that sort of thing. I mean, come on, I work as the Assistant Dorm Director at Death Dorm for crying out loud. Even though I love my job, I know that one day I'm likely to meet a bloody and painful end. I was jinxed from the start.

We enter the main lobby—which takes my breath away for a few seconds because of how beautiful and big it is… apparently there's a pool outside and a gym upstairs, but the odds of me letting any one see me in a bathing suit or in gym clothes are extremely low—and we split up; me looking around for a gift shop to buy a couple of candy bars at—I am _starving_… I haven't eaten since before the flight, because I read somewhere that flight food contains loads of microbes, and I'd rather not die of food poisoning… seriously, I've been in the middle of a lot of life-threatening situations, how awkward would it be if I died just because I ate bad food?—and Cooper striding confidently—and extremely hotly, might I add; I made him wear his Levis that are faded and tight in all the right places—toward the check in desk. I watch him walk, a small smile gripping my face. He waits patiently for the flustered-looking concierge's help. I take in the fact that he is actually my boyfriend, and that he loves me, _me_, Heather Wells, residence hall worker, part-time unofficial Private Eye, full-time official trouble magnet, before turning to grab a few Booster bars and tuna sandwiches off the shelf and walking toward the cashier.

"Someone's in a good mood," the cashier comments, with a crooked smile, in an extremely thick New Zealand accent. Even though my boyfriend is standing less than twenty feet away, I melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Yes," I reply, a little flustered, "I finally got the man of my dreams." I nod toward the dark-haired God that is leaning forward onto the check in counter.

The cute cashier guy turns his own brown-blond head and looks in the direction I'd nodded to. "Well, I'm not into guys, so I can't really comment on that, but he seems really great. But he sure must be a lucky guy to have a beauty like you on his arm."

I don't whether it's the words or the accent in which the words are said, but I blush all the way up to the hairline. "No, I'm the one who is lucky," I stammer, ducking my head down into my purse, pretending to be looking for my wallet, but really trying to hide the blush from him.

"That's six dollars forty-nine cents please," he informs me, and I hand him the correct change. He indicates a little badge on his chest and says, "I'm Jayden Dryden, in case you didn't notice." I hadn't.

"Nice to meet you, Jayden, I'm Heather Wells," I reply, smiling brightly up at him, now that my blush has cooled. He puts my things in a plastic bag emblazoned with 'The Beverly Hilton' on the front and hands it to me. "Thank you," I say, taking the bag and nodding in appreciation. "Well Jayden, my boyfriend and I are staying here for a few days, so see you round maybe." He pulls his phone out of his pocket and begins tapping at the screen rather violently.

I walk away toward Cooper, bag in hand, and I hear the words, "I hope so, Heather, I hope so," follow me across the lobby.


	2. Chapter 2

**(A/N: Sorry about the delay in posting, if any one really cares, I just couldn't find the attention span to write more than like, two paragraphs at the one time… Hope you enjoy! Review with comments and favourite if you liked it! More soon! Thanks xo)**

I sneak up behind Cooper, avoiding our suitcases and my guitar case lithely, and poke him in the side, causing him to jump upright. "Oh, Heather!" he exclaims, breathing out heavily. "You scared me a little." He smiles down at me, his luminescent blue eyes lighting up with happiness and mischief. "Just waiting for the room key; it's a busy weekend so everything is a little hectic. No big deal. There's been a mix up with our key, apparently it's missing. They're looking for the spare."

I smile up at him, and wrap my arms lovingly around his waist. He leans down and lays a small kiss on my forehead like he did that day my boss tried to kill me on the top floor of Death Dorm. My eyes flutter closed, before I lay my head on his toned chest and listen to the rhythmic sound of his heart's steady beating. Despite the slight drizzle from outside, he was as dry and warm as ever.

Our intimate moment is interrupted, however, by a portly man with a handle bar moustache and sideburns so dark they are almost black. I feel as though we've been transported back to the sixties. He clears his throat, as politely as possible, and leans forward to hand the key card to Cooper. "Thank you very much for your patience," he says, in an almost robotic voice. "I hope you enjoy your stay." I look at his name tag—you learn well, young padawan—and learn that his name is Robert.

"Thank you, Robert," I say politely, dropping my arms from Cooper's waist and smiling at him.

Robert's face shows an expression of absolute shock. "Y-You're welcome," he stutters, suddenly eager to sort out a small pile of paper work on the desk in front of him.

Cooper and I turn away from the desk and walk toward the elevator, him grabbing both suitcases, me grabbing my guitar. He presses the button and I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is listening. "What the heck was that all about? Why did he seem so shocked that I thanked him?" I ask Cooper, allowing my curiosity to seep into my voice.

"Uh, Heather, this is Los Angeles, the home of the rich and famous. What rich and famous people are really kind these days? He might have recognised you from your stint as a pop-star back in the day and expected you to be impolite." He shakes his head, almost sadly. "While it's an unfair stereotype, it fits for most people in that category."

I look down at my adorable baby pink peep toe wedges—I was expecting different weather—and frown. "I don't understand the stereotype at all."

Cooper chuckles and taps my chin to make me look up at him. "Fame never got to you. You've always been a down-to-earth person, but with some people, it's all about the flashing lights and money. With you, it was about making people happy. That's why you wanted to start using your own music; songs about people with sugar rushes didn't really inspire. You want to inspire."

The words that come out of his mouth make me melt all over my peep toes. "You really know how to get a girl in to the sack," I comment, grinning when he rolls his eyes. Okay, so I know it's not exactly well-mannered of me to say something like that, especially when he's standing there, all protective, but any one knows it's hard for me not to say what I'm thinking. If this wasn't the case I would still have a job working for Cooper's dad at Cartwright Records. Well, maybe twenty pounds ago.

And yeah, okay, maybe it is a little weird that we still haven't said those three words, three syllables, eight letters to each other yet, but I'm sure he's just a little… cautious. Yeah, that's it. He's probably a little scared that I don't feel the same way and he's waiting for me to say it first, so I'll just-

The elevator dinging snaps me out of thoughts and back into the hallway of the hotel. I hate elevators after what happened last year with my boss, but I walk in and grip hold of the gold bar any way, breathing hard. The elevator man—what is the actual term for an elevator man, anyway?—asks our floor, to Cooper replies, 'fourth, please'. On the ride up to the fourth floor an almost peaceful silence rang in my ears—except for my extremely heavy breathing, of course. With Cooper, silences are never awkward; I'm usually always comfortable with him, no matter the subject of conversation, or lack thereof.

The second the elevator doors open, I rush into the hall way and plant my feet on solid ground, my breathing finally returning back to normal pace. Cooper looks down at me speculatively, but knowing there is nothing he can do, he settles for hiking one of the cases onto his shoulder and linking our hands together.

I melt into his touch, feeling safe again, like I always do when I'm with him. He pulls me down a long corridor and stops in front of a door with the number '434' emblazoned across a small gold painted plaque. Isn't this the suite that Whitney Houston died in? Oh, great. If it weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck. I'm not sure which I'd prefer.

Cooper slides the key card into the slot and it makes a little tinkling noise before the door clicks open. We walk into the suite and I dump my guitar case onto the bed and I start checking things out. I pick up the chocolate on the pillowcase and split it half and half with Cooper, before asking if he'd like to join me in the shower… I mean, come on, it'd be such a waste of water… I'm just looking out for the good of the planet here!

He accepts my offer, so I grab him by the hand and I drag him, walking backwards into the bathroom, kissing him deeply. Sliding his hand behind me he pushes down the door handle and we continue to move together.

"Cooper," I start to say when we both come up for air. I open my eyes, and look up at him, wanting us to be staring lovingly into each others eyes as I say this, but instead of him looking at me, he's staring a little wild-eyed at something behind me. "I lov- What is it?"

I start to turn, but Cooper holds me still. "Don't," Cooper says, his quiet voice grim and his lips drawn into a tight line. "Don't look." The words seem to jam in his throat and he swallows, shutting his eyes.

"What is it?" I ask, starting to get a little worried now.

When he doesn't answer, I yank my arm out of his grip and turn around. That's when I see them hanging there; the two bodies that had been strung up and left for dead.


End file.
